Adarise Salvel, Nerevarine
by Svetlaena Quel'Ivan
Summary: Third and Final Book of the Adarise Salvel saga that began with 'Outlander' and continued with 'Incarnate'. Adarise has saved her people from the clutches of the Sharmat Dagoth Ur, but perhaps not everyone is as thankful as she hoped, and she must discover who is after her very life.
1. Introduction - After Red Mountain

I am Adarise Salvel, Hortator and Nerevarine, Indoril Nerevar reborn. I had thought my troubles were over when I freed Vvardenfell from the clutches of Dagoth Ur, but I find trouble follows me like a shadow. Against my better judgment, I have decided to start a new journal, if only to keep up with what is going on for my own sake. These events reek of ill, and I shall do my best to explain why...

In the weeks after my victory at Red Mountain I went out into the Ashlands to check in with the tribes and see if their fortunes had brightened. In all camps I found hearty welcomes. The Urshilaku accepted my second journal and Nibani promised to keep it safe and pass it down the generations, and said their hunts had vastly improved since the clearing of the ash. Ever since that day I had noticed that my ability to see in the depths of an unlit hall or the darkness of night had improved by significant degree, so I inquired with Nibani about it. She leaned close, peering into my eye and said she could see nothing strange, but said sometimes contact with beings not of this world was often linked with the appearance of strange signs or abilities.

I went east to find the Ahemmusa had come out of their hiding place when the blight storms disappeared and had managed to establish a proper treaty with the Zainab to the south to give them more reasonable borders. Speaking of the Zainab, upon my visit to them I found Falura bedridden in her husband's yurt, and at first thought something wrong until she explained it was just the 'morning sickness'. I felt like a fool admitting I didn't know what that was, and she beamed and told me that it meant she was already pregnant. In three seasons she will have their first child, and I was pleased by how happy she seemed. Further to the south, the Erabenimsun seem to be slowly adjusting to their new Ashkhan and he seems to have gained a lot of confidence in his ability to lead.

It was upon my return to civilization that I learned perhaps not everyone is thankful for my defeat of Dagoth Ur. I lay awake one night in Suran, wondering where I wanted to wander next, when the door to my room came open. I shut my eyes, feigning sleep, and listened. Footsteps, light, clad in leather. The door closing barely made a sound. Then came the scraping of steel against a scabbard, and I had to act. I kicked my would-be assailant in the stomach and rolled off the other side of the bed, recovering my sword. Now I was quite thankful for the gift Azura bestowed on my sight, as I could see the assassin's movements better than he could see mine, making up for his greater speed.

When I was freeing my blade from his dead flesh I noticed that our scuffle had woken most of the tavern, and some guards came to recover the corpse. I recognized the armor. I had been attacked by these before... these Dark Brotherhood, the illegal assassins based in the Empire. This one had a curious carved dart in his possession, tipped with poison. I sighed. My trip to the Corprusarium to speak with the last Dwemer about the artifacts would have to be put on hold.

I waited till I got to Vivec to ask about it, and in the Foreign Quarter I was directed to the city of Ebonhart just barely to the southwest. Apparently since the end of the blight, a unit of the Imperial Legion had shipped in and was looking into Dark Brotherhood attacks in Morrowind. They seemed surprised that I was a target, and I told them my intention: to get to the bottom of it. My worst fear is that if someone is seeking my life there may be lingering Sixth House fanatics still on the loose. And even if they don't have the ability to still spread Corprus, which I sincerely hope they don't, they must be eliminated. Apparently, the majority of the problems seem to originate from one place... all the way on the mainland.

Mournhold. The temple-city of light and magic, home to the Goddess Almalexia. More specifically, Old Mournhold, the ruins upon which the new city is built. So I paid for passage, first by boat then by carriage, which I now sit in, writing in a beautifully decorated blank book I purchased at port, following the instinct of the heaviness in my mind. If what I now set out on is a fool's errand, then I will probably discard it, yet the spirit within tells me it is not...


	2. 2 Evening Star, 3E426

**2 Evening Star, 3E426**

It is warmer and more humid here in Mournhold than anywhere in Vvardenfell, despite the season. It is the most beautiful city I have ever seen, more so even than Vivec, with nearly its entirety decorated in carved jade stones. The walls stand high and protective and in every district there are scattered gardens, flora I have never before seen, flowers and tall trees of wondrous beauty. One district is dominated by a grandiose statue of Almalexia facing down the four-armed Daedra Lord Mehrunes Dagon during his sack of Old Mournhold, surrounded by a cool fountain. The marketplace of the city makes the grand bazaar of Balmora seem like a back-alley stall; there is even an open-air theatre in the center. Such exquisite homes make up the residential district that many manors on Vvardenfell are put to shame. I should expect no less of the capital, I suppose.

Getting into Old Mournhold proved easier than expected. It would seem the ways in and out are rather endless and the locals each know a few. My reception, so far, has been a rather warm one, my identity treated with a friendly respect and most just want to know why I am here. So far I am just telling people that I came to see the capital and Temple, and that suffices for most. Some ask questions about what happened on Vvardenfell, and for a few moments in the grand bazaar I unwittingly became the center of attention when a group of youngsters goaded me into telling the whole story of my fight with the Sharmat.

After I finished and the miniature crowd dissipated I had to remind myself that I was there on a mission; not vacation. I dropped down the first trapdoor and ladder I came across and went down into Old Mournhold. It's a haunting place; a combination of earthen caves and disheveled remains of First Era buildings. I proceeded slowly, taking out my sword. Thanks to my gift from Azura I didn't have to use a torch to pick my way through, which would have been like a beacon for trouble.

Soon I saw something move. It was hard to pick out at first, the armor cleverly blending in well with the dark rock. They sat just at the entrance to an offshoot of the caves, moving only their head to look around, dagger idly in hand. He hadn't seen me yet. It was that familiar leather though, the Dark Brotherhood wore it. I scanned around for any more, he seemed to be alone, likely a scout posted to warn others of intruders. I just very well couldn't let him do that. Being very careful indeed I crept as close as I could, which wasn't nearly as close as I would have liked, and tossed a rock to the other side of the cave. As soon as he turned I began to rush at him, of course he heard my armor but it was too late for him then, silenced by a sword through the neck.

Though he hadn't gotten to yell, I'd made enough noise to trigger some stirring from deeper in the cave. I pressed myself against the wall and waited for someone to come check on the source, standing still as a stone. I rather wished at this moment that I had Nels with me, stealth and surprise were his sort of thing; then again I can't stand the thought of throwing him into the same dangers I face. Two of the scout's compatriots, clad in the same armor, came in, though they were smarter than I had hoped for and saw me in seconds. I was entirely reliant on the fact that I could see better than they, and they weren't entirely on par with the assassin I faced in Suran.

By the time our scuffle was over and they lay dead the whole of their base was on alert and I had to turn back. I've confidence in my blade but to face so many would be suicide. I ran through the caves, through sewers, getting lost myself but prioritizing my escape. Eventually, the din died down behind me and I found a ladder back up into the city. Just as I was reaching for the rungs to begin climbing an ebony dart sunk into the back of my ring-hand.

Feeling the poison creeping into my bloodstream already I yanked the offending dart out and turned around, glaring. A dark-haired Dunmer man stood there, grinning at me. "You may be good enough to get away from my initiates, but they are lax in their training," he boasted. "There is no escape from me."

He wasted no more words, raising the bow in his hands and firing at me. Though fatigued I blocked that one, coming at him in full force before he could nock another arrow. I expected him to dodge; I didn't expect him to leap over my swing, kick off my shield and land several yards away as nimbly as a cat. With well-trained speed he had another arrow ready and fired at me, and I only got out of the way in time, feeling it graze my hair. The poison was starting to work faster as well, urged on by the rapid beating of my heart. Feverish and ill I fought on, blocking a third arrow that actually stuck into the metal of my shield, but I couldn't block the fourth; it buried itself in my side, my armor being the only thing that kept it from penetrating very deep.

I was getting tired of that stupid bow so I swung downward at him, forcing him to bring it up to block and just hitting it again and again until it gave way. As soon as it did I knocked him off-balance with the shield, trying to remain on the offensive. He produced a short dagger and rolled away from my strike, getting around me. If I hadn't spun my blade around and stuck it out behind myself to stop him, he probably would have managed to sever my spine. Turning around made my poisoned stomach churn but I fought to stay focused. He was faster than me, and obviously not affected by the darkness.

He was gone when I turned about, however, and I looked all around. No sign of him, but I knew better than to think he had actually left. I'd seen him leap so high before; I daren't look up. It was the obvious choice, come down at me like a cliff racer from the ceiling. I knew from seeing before that it was strewn with pipelines, plenty of things to grab hold of. My vision was starting to blur but I listened as hard as I could. I heard water dripping, my own breathing, and then...

I swung around at the last possible moment and my shield hit him shatteringly hard. But I didn't stop there, summoning up what remained of my strength to then slam his light frame into the sewer wall. I heard a crack, and when I let him drop, he did not again rise, the back of his hair sticky with blood. No pulse beat beneath my fingertips when I checked. Only then did I step a few yards away and allow myself to lose everything I'd eaten onto the floor. I needed to see a healer, fast, but not before I searched my assailant to see what I could find.

All he had was a letter:

_The Bearer of this document, under special dispensation of the Night Mother, who has entered in a contract in perpetuity with H, is given special dispensation to execute Adarise Salvel, a Dunmer recently residing on the island of Vvardenfell. In accordance with all laws and traditions, the afore-mentioned personage will be executed in the name of H in the most expedient manner possible. All services of the Dark Brotherhood are at the disposal of the Bearer of this binding and non-disputable document._


	3. 3-5 Evening Star, 3E426

**3 Evening Star, 3E426**

After I was committed to the Temple infirmary last night I lay there while the antidote took effect, reading the letter over and over, I didn't know anyone whose name started with H, or did I? I struggled to think. As I tried to focus I overheard a couple of the Temple healers conversing about one of them performing their duties in the Royal Palace in the heart of the city. I listened to them talk about how extravagant the jade-stone castle was on the inside and as I was trying to picture it a name caught my ear: Hlaalu Helseth, King of Morrowind.

It seemed like an awfully big leap of logic at first, and then less and less so. The Dark Brotherhood was operating freely just under his own city. The use of just an initial implied importance and secrecy, and there was not just one but an entire training base of assassins down there. What the King would have against me, I do not know... one would think he would be thanking me for the elimination of the Blight. I calmed myself. It was too early to get angry, I wanted to be more sure first. Perhaps there was some grave misunderstanding that I could clear up.

Eventually I concluded that if my King did indeed wish me dead, he wouldn't dare have me murdered in public by his own men, something I could infer from the use of Imperial assassins. To do so after my victory would set all Vvardenfell district and beyond against him, a poor political maneuver indeed. It would be safe enough to walk into the Palace by daylight with witnesses and ask about it; if I was wrong I could simply say I am investigating. I would not point any fingers at Helseth yet, not until it was undeniable truth that he was behind it, but find out what clues my questions could uncover.

So in the storms this morning after a rather fitful sleep I set out for the Royal Palace. A guard in the central courtyard directed me to their Captain, an Imperial to my surprise. We met in the reception area outside the Throne Room and I showed him the contract I recovered from the assassin. I don't think he even read the whole thing, shoving it back at me, disavowing all knowledge of it and the Brotherhood. His reluctance to talk, coupled with the fact that trying to press him about it got me escorted back into the courtyard and warned about making trouble, feed my suspicions to bursting point.

There was one branch of leadership in Mournhold that had no choice but to listen to me, however: the Temple. So I went to the grand Temple of Almalexia and was immediately granted an audience with her steward. Fedris Hler is a shrewd and competent sort and he seemed to echo my thought that Helseth was behind the assassin. But that isn't all our great King has been up to, apparently. He isn't exactly the most popular ruler Morrowind has ever had, ascending to the throne by means of the sudden and suspicious death of his uncle. Temple intelligence suggested he was also orchestrating the creation of a goblin army, of all things... for what purpose Fedris and I do not know. This, too, was said to be hidden away in a different part of Old Mournhold. So it would seem I am returning there, but I will wait until tomorrow.

* * *

**5 Evening Star, 3E426**

Sure enough, I found goblins in the winding tunnels beneath Mournhold yesterday, and followed traces of them and their camps for hours and putting every one of the vile things I saw to the sword. They are just a step above animals really; a wonder they could be trained to even use a sword, not that they did so very well. This made my job relatively painless; just tedious. Once I was certain they had either all fallen or fled I returned to the surface and the sun was starting to come up so I made for the Winged Guar for food and rest.

Although I am sure she knew the moment I arrived in the city that I was here, Almalexia finally called a meeting between us. Fedris found me as I lounged in the sun in the Temple plaza this afternoon and interrupted my meditative solace to tell me that I was to go see the Goddess personally. Suddenly I was not quite so relaxed, asking for some time first. I am not usually one to nitpick about my appearance but for this meeting, I couldn't seem to help it. I changed out of my armor and into the ceremonial Hortator robes, brushed my hair and tried to make it sit in a pleasing manner, checked myself in a mirror. After much fussing, I felt ready to finally see the woman who was once Nerevar's wife.

I was so in awe of her that I forgot to introduce myself, but the look in her eyes told me it wasn't necessary... Almalexia knew me. Her countenance and aspect were truly befitting that of a Goddess. Chimer in appearance, golden skin decorated with intricate and beautiful tattoo work, her hair and eyes like fire. When she smiled at me I felt captivated and had no choice but to smile back, approaching her as she stood surrounded by her personal guard. Colored light filtered into the chapel through a window of blue and red stained glass.

She spoke, her voice carrying a divine serenity with it, "So you are the person I have been hearing about. I welcome you to my chapel, Adarise..." Her eyes strayed to the ring on my finger for a moment and her smile grew. "Or perhaps I should call you by another name?"

I knelt and bowed to her, "You may call me whatever pleases you most, my Lady. What would you ask of me?"

Almalexia reached out and took my chin, raising my head and gently bidding me to stand. Familiar, warm, I didn't want it to end but it did after a few silent moments, during which I looked into her eyes and knew perfect peace. "I simply wanted to see you with my own eyes. It has been a very long time. But... there is one thing."

"Ask it," I prompted.

"I understand you have done well in service for all of Mournhold, and Vvardenfell. Recovered our artifacts, and put to rest our old enemy. I also hear that you eliminated the growing goblin menace beneath my streets. You have done so much I do not feel I can ask more of you, but I would have the ring you found there."

It took me a moment to remember, my mind hazy with the glow of Almalexia's presence, and then I was a bit confused. I had indeed found a ring while I cleared out the goblins, but I hadn't thought much of it. I couldn't feel any magical energies from it and it didn't appear to be made of any particularly valuable material. I'd picked it up anyway, hoping it'd fetch some coin at the Bazaar. If she wanted it, I didn't mind parting with it. I dug through my satchel for a while and found it shoved into the corner at the bottom. Even though I couldn't fathom what she would want with such a thing, or how she knew I had it, when I handed it to her the smile on her face was worth more than any amount of gold it might have won me and made me forget to ask.

Almalexia laid her hand on my forehead. "As my thanks I bestow the blessing of My Light upon you. May it serve you well... Nerevar." Even though the room and her touch were warm, I shivered slightly when she spoke my old name, the feeling of pleasant memory washing over me. "Now you may return to your rest. We will speak again soon."


	4. 6 Evening Star, 3E426

**6 Evening Star, 3E426**

I was awoken this morning a couple of hours before sunrise by a panicked Temple healer. I needed to clear out of the infirmary, they said, and since I was armed I could be of help. Sleepily I began to don my armor, the man having run off before I could ask what was going on, and soon I began to see. One by one the other priests and healers were starting to carry in injured High Ordinators and Royal Guard alike, as well as civilians. Some limped in, but most had wounds far too severe. This woke me up fast. I approached one who was still conscious to inquire.

The city was under attack, he said breathlessly behind his silver Indoril mask. By what, they didn't really know. I was just directed to the Plaza Brindisi Dorom, the large garden district that held the statue of Almalexia and Mehrunes Dagon.

The monument was in pieces when I arrived. Many of the trees had fallen and lamp-posts were toppled and I saw the remains of a few civilians that hadn't managed to get away. The Guard and Ordinators were locked in a fierce struggle with what appeared to be lizard-like creatures. I drew my sword and jumped into the fray alongside them. Now that I was closer, I could get a better look at our foe. It was equal parts beast and machine, jabbing at me with a sharp mechanical tail. Dozens of these things were overrunning the Plaza. The longer we fought, the more Ordinators, Guard, and even civilians who had some measure of combat or magic training came in and the tide began to turn in our favor. As the sun came up over the battered city wall, we took out the last of them.

After a round of victorious cheers I began to look around to see where they might've come from and found about three Ordinators all standing around the broken statue, looking down at something. Getting closer I could see there was a hole. One of the men was ordering a ladder brought over and eventually one came. I accompanied them down, all of us carrying our swords in hand.

At the end of the small pathway was a massive chamber of unmistakably Dwemer origin. It was certainly the largest room of its kind I'd seen, columns from floor to ceiling inscribed with ancient letters and lit by the same strange glowing tubes I knew from other ruins. But the real show appeared to be an ongoing battle between the creatures that had come into the city and some Dwemer constructs. We all backed out; there were too many in there for just us four, at least, until the fight sorted itself out. The Ordinators said they would guard the entrance to the hole to prevent anything else from coming out into Mournhold.

I began to think as I climbed back out. The appearance of a Dwemer ruin would have made me think the creatures originated there, but by all appearances, the Dwemer constructs were actually defending their ancient home against the invaders. As I was contemplating this and passing through the Palace Courtyard I was stopped by the same Imperial I'd spoken to before about the King, the Captain of the Royal Guard. I was being summoned to the Throne Room by King Helseth himself. I refused at first on the grounds that I didn't feel safe; fearing a trap. But he simply wouldn't take no for an answer and I couldn't afford for things to get violent.

I didn't bow to my King but he didn't seem to mind. The first thing I noted were his ears; though he had the ashen skin and red eyes of a Dunmer his ears were round like a man's. My people do not exactly take well to other races, so he was the first half-breed I had ever seen. He leaned casually in his throne, glancing at me in between inspecting his own fingernails.

"We understand you were visited by some Dark Brotherhood assassins," Helseth said calmly, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

I decided to be direct. "Did you send them?"

His reply was without hesitation or regret. "Yes." A sigh, sounding rather bored. "You see, we have various sources throughout Vvardenfell that are paid well to provide us with information. Unfortunately, sometimes it proves to be incorrect. One of our informants had suggested that you could pose a threat to our monarchy. That cannot be allowed, as I'm sure you understand."

"I am not interested in deposing you." I remained rather rigid in my stance, crossing my arms, still a bit worried about possible entrapment. "I seek to serve my people. Not rule them. I do not envy your position."

"Of course you don't, of course," the King gestured idly, and I think I saw him smirk. One of his servants brought him a glass of wine. "Don't fret. I'm certain the Brotherhood will no longer be a problem for you." I was offered one as well and almost took it, then thought better of it and shook my head. Just wasn't worth the risk. Helseth seemed a bit annoyed when I refused, but nevertheless kept it silent. "You may go now," He said at length. "I just wanted to clear up that little misunderstanding. Oh, and thanks, for killing the machine-things. Heroic deeds and all that."

I left, still feeling that something was amiss. None of what I've seen or learned is adding up. An aloof half-breed King that may or may not want me dead, the Dark Brotherhood, and half-beast half-machine menaces causing tragedy in Mournhold. Feeling that I am starting to stress, I took the rest of the evening to sit in the tavern and mull over everything that's happened.

I wonder if I shouldn't just go back to Vvardenfell, and leave this place to its own devices. But I know that is only fancy; Nerevar will not abandon his people. Only death kept him from his task before and it will take nothing less to do so again. But I miss the wilderness, I miss the grasslands and swamps and deserts... I do not think I am a believer in big city life. All I have treaded on for days has been stone and though there are islands of grass and trees all throughout Mournhold, it is but a mortal effort to recreate the beauty the gods gave us.


	5. 7 Evening Star, 3E426

**7 Evening Star, 3E426**

In the morning I felt much better, perhaps all I needed was a hearty meal and a night of moderate drinking. I decided to go and see Almalexia again, fussing over myself as I did the first time, even though I still know how nonsensical it is to do so. I hoped she might have some insight about the ruin beneath her statue and the origin of the half-machine creatures, and wondered if she knew what lay at the other end of that place...

But as I was leaving the tavern I spotted a strange man in white robes speaking to a small assembled crowd. He gestured wildly and spoke with confidence so, curious, I edged closer, and leaned against the wall of the building while I listened.

"The blessed Tribunal, though once filled with glory, are no longer the gods they once were. As with the tides and Tamriel's moons, all cosmic powers will wax and wane. But, when gods die, it creates ripples throughout the lands. The passing of the Three will be a prelude to the end of this era, and the beginning of the next. The followers of the End of Times are making ourselves ready for this to happen."

I spoke up, attracting the attention of both the speaker and his silent crowd. "Is that so? How does one 'ready' oneself? Because it doesn't seem like the times are ending to me."

Rather than getting mad as I had expected though, the man just smiled blissfully. "The end of the era will bring many changes, my dear lady. The gates of Oblivion will open, and the multitude of daedra will roam this world freely. Some might tell you that this is a good thing, that we are descended from the daedra and it will be a return to the natural order of things." Here he held aloft his hand, speaking with an air of righteousness, "I know differently, though! The coming age will be a time of _great horror_!"

Those assembled gasped and muttered among themselves, but I am not one to be swayed by the words of the obviously mad. So, rather fed up with this little show, I began to walk away. And yet I could hear the man calling out as I did:

"The only protection from this scourge will be our true ancestors that have gone before us and watch over us even now! Pay tribute, and join them if you will!"

I almost stopped to question him more, but told myself to just keep walking. The only way to 'join the ancestors' was through death. Had I really heard that correctly? A cult encouraging suicides? Now even more concerned and confused I proceeded to the Temple. In my mind it was just another puzzle piece that seemingly didn't fit with all the others I had, but perhaps Almalexia would make some sense of it.

I began to relay to the Goddess everything I had seen and learned. I noted worry in her eyes when I described the creatures to her, and she immediately called over one of her personal guard and had them go to retrieve the remains of one of them for her inspection. She said she had some idea as to where they might have come from, but it was too early to draw 'nonsensical conclusions'. When asked if I had any other business, I started to talk about the strange man outside the Tavern.

The more I repeated what he'd been shouting, the more tense and angry she grew, though her countenance barely betrayed it. I could see it in her eyes; feel the mounting tension in the air, and saw her hands tighten. Almalexia's voice was great and terrible and her guard fidgeted nervously, the fury of their goddess invoked. I tried not to do the same.

"A suicide cult... in my city! They would dare..." She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths for grace before she spoke again, her tone so cold I couldn't help but to shiver. "So, the Tribunal has lost its power, has it? These fools would dare question Almalexia's power, here in her city." She pointed at me. "Nerevar. You will travel to the ruins of Bamz-Amschend and activate the Karstangz-Bcharn."

There was no hiding my confusion. "The... _what_ in the _where_, my Lady?" I cautiously asked, not exactly keen on bringing any more of her wrathful side to the surface. The side of me that is not me couldn't stand to see her so upset.

Almalexia sighed, her voice tinged with sadness. "Since the attack on the city, much of my own power has been spent caring for my people. The number of wounded has been astronomical, and caring for them all has been taxing to even me. But in the ruins that opened up beneath my statue lies an ancient machine... I do so hope it still works... the Dwemer used it to produce constructs to protect their halls. I cannot prevent the creatures from entering my city by my power alone, and they will be an excellent first defense against them."

"And that it where I come in," I nodded. "But my Lady, I am not a scholar and I know next to nothing of the Dwemer's machines."

With a gesture of her hand not unlike the one that Vivec used to present me with Wraithguard, Almalexia called into existence a small brass-colored machine part. "I have faith you will know what to do. This powered coherer should be the only missing piece to make it function. Simply find out where it fits, and the machines should do the rest. Though, you may want to leave quickly once you do."

Her words should have made me feel more confident, but they didn't. I'm terrified that I'm going to break it or something, or make it do the wrong thing... but if Almalexia has faith in me, perhaps when I get there it will all be made clear. I suppose there is no harm in trying.


	6. 8 Evening Star, 3E426

**8 Evening Star, 3E426**

When I descended in to the Dwemer ruins this time, the battle between the constructs and invading fabricants had ended and only a few, very damaged constructs remained. Almalaexia had said the machine I was looking for could be found down the western hallways so I proceeded that way, leaving myself a trail of raw saltrice so that if I became lost I would at least be able to get back out.

The fabricants had done enough damage to ensure the constructs that were left were of very little threat to me. Far more unpleasant than any battle with a mechanical creature was being forced to crawl through small, dark holes in the earth, the only way to squeeze through the cave-ins. The further in I went, the more the air smelt stale and dusty, setting me coughing here and there. I found many strange ash piles sitting next to bits of armor or on chairs... after a while I made the disturbing realization that they were situated in places Dwemer might have been at the moment Kagrenac used the Tools on the Heart. A pile on each side of the door next to spears had been guards, two piles on the floor beneath the rotted-out remains of a bed had been a couple at rest...

Most of the Dwemer ruins I had encountered up until now had seen other uses over the years, or at least had been ventured into. The slightest air current was able to disturb these ash piles, as I noted when I walked briskly past one. That meant this place had not been touched since their disappearance. A strange, eerie thought indeed. Though enemies to my people they had become, Nerevar had once made peace with them, and considered them friends, and it made my heart heavy to see this was all that remained.

After many hours of wandering and searching and taking in the overwhelming dead silence, I found in a large, circular room with a large machine in the center. There was a panel just at chest-height with a slot that was just the right shape and size for the coherer and I placed it there. The part lit up and the machine began to hum. Then I heard a scraping, banging, and a release of steam... for a few moments my hand was on my sword-hilt. It had been quiet for so long and the noise it made was so atrociously loud that I was instantly on high alert, and yet, for no good reason. Nothing happened but the noise, which continued as the machine worked. I shrugged and left, deciding that whatever just occurred I didn't understand it, but I'd gotten the thing working again so I'd done my job. On my way out I noted a strange etching of a volcano on the wall, but not until I got to the surface would I think much of it.

I came back to the surface, and to horror. When I climbed out I was immediately greeted by something I had thought was long gone: an ashstorm. In Mournhold. So far away from the volcano, which no longer produced them, or so I thought. Panic set in right off. I ran to the Temple at top speed, forgetting my fatigue from my day spent underground, passing scared residents on the way who were ducking into any shelter they could find. The only thought I could vocalize was 'no'. Had I failed? Had Dagoth Ur survived somehow? I noted that I could smell the ash, but not the blight that it usually carried, but this brought me no comfort.

I burst into the High Chapel, wide-eyed and startling Almalexia's personal Hands and they reached for their weapons, relaxing a bit when they saw it was me but cautious nonetheless. I went to my knees.

"Almalexia," I said breathlessly, "Forgive me. I have made some grave error. The machine activated, but there were no new constructs... and I came out and saw your city engulfed in ash. I fear I did not deal with Voryn as adequately as I should have. I must go back to Vvardenfell and-"

"Leave us," She spoke sternly, and her guard, for the first time, left us alone in the Chapel. And then her tone changed completely, soft and loving, and she smiled down at me. Bewildered, I just stared at her, my eyes pleading for answers.

"You have done well," she said, leaving me mystified. "This is the effect I was looking for."

"...my Lady?"

A tinge of sorrow was in her voice as she gently bade me to stand with a touch of her warm hand, "I am afraid I have not been entirely honest with you, my Nerevar. You always were a bit too rash to appreciate when calculated shows of power must be made."

The feeling of familiarity, and her melodious chuckle, though both strong did little to ease me. Though she admitted it in her most affectionate way, I had been lied to. I recalled the etching in the machine chamber... and it all made sense. "So, I am responsible for this ashstorm." The words were bitter on my tongue.

"Fear not. No one will blame you, and I shall protect my people through it and when I feel these cultists and dissenters have learned their lesson and come to respect me again, I will end it. For the time being, however, my magicka will prevent any more tampering with the machine, should you get some hasty ideas."

I wanted to slap her hand right off my cheek, but I couldn't. Not only had I been deceived, but she planned to do the same with every one of her people. "Almalexia... if you seek to regain their love through frightening them, that is not real love." I stepped back so that she could no longer touch me, turning my back. I couldn't stay here. My anger was building fast. "These people love you for your Mercy... for your acts of charity and protection. This is not the way."

"In time, you will understand," I heard her saying as I shut the doors behind me, and all I could think to myself was that I could use a drink... or six.


	7. 10 Evening Star, 3E426

**10 Evening Star, 3E426**

I could find little to write about yesterday. I just wandered the streets aimlessly and barely ate a thing. When I got up today and now even as I write this the ashstorm has not let up and my mind is heavy with guilt. She betrayed me before, long ago; I just hoped in the deepest part of my heart that she would not do so again. Foolish naïveté at its worst.

The situation continues to grow bleaker in Mournhold. Almalexia has not seen fit to stop or even let up with the storm and I avoided the Temple as much as I could. Having no business to distract me I was left to contemplate my failure and watch the city begin to die. Most of the blooms from the flowering trees have been blown off by the wind and the trees that bore them are beginning to look brownish and sickly. This ash may not carry the Blight but that does not make it healthy; anyone that spends too much time outdoors returns coughing and nauseated, myself included. This is especially hard on those that rely on outdoor work for their pay. The very young and old seem to be the most vulnerable.

I hadn't thought much of the rumors I'd heard of one of the Hands of Almalexia defecting; I quite expected her plan to turn around on her. What I didn't see coming was finding myself face-to-face with him in the ash-choked streets of the Godsreach district, still wearing his armor that identified him as a Hand, all except his mask, raving and speaking nonsense. In a clear state of disarray he ran over to me with his curved sword drawn and swung.

I blocked, and the clang of metal meeting metal instantly cleared the once-crowded area we were in, civilians pushing each other over in a scramble to get distance from the fight. "You!" He bellowed, bringing down several more powerful strikes on my shield, though a bit lacking in the finesse I was told the Hands possessed. "I know it was you! You did this! It was your fault!"

There was a sinking feeling in my stomach, and no denying what he was talking about. I growled and knocked him backwards and he barely faltered, stalwart as a stone. "Tell them what Nerevar has done!" The lunatic raised his sword in the air and glanced around to the crowd. "Tell them why they suffer!" I couldn't let his words get to me, instead taking the chance to lunge at him while he was busy being theatrical.

I could see a couple of High Ordinators trying to get through the crowd to take care of the disturbance, so I purposefully stayed on the defensive to avoid misinterpretation. Thankfully they seemed to have been looking for a good excuse to put their swords in him. Flanked from all sides he managed to parry us for a few moments but it wasn't long before one of the Ordinators got their blade into his spine. I was even given a nod of gratitude for my help; the most courtesy I think I've ever gotten from an Ordinator.

All eyes were on me as the mad defector was dragged off. I think they were expecting answers, but I didn't have the heart to give any. What was I supposed to do... claim responsibility, have them turn on me and forsake all the fighting I've done for my freedom and acceptance? Or worse, tell them that their beloved Goddess of mercy and compassion has done this to them? In the end I spoke not a word; I just slinked off, angry and ashamed.

I went to the Bazaar after that, hoping food might get my mind off what just happened. I was going from stall to stall, noting how nothing seemed appetizing, when I noticed I was being followed. A small human with braids in her hair, judging by her small size probably a Breton, was 'mysteriously' showing up behind me at the last three rows of stalls I had been to. If she was what I thought she was, I thought, a little justice might do my mood some good so I took out my bottle and put an intentional stumble in my steps. A drunk is an easy target for a thief. As expected, the sleazy little creature took the bait and moments after I turned into an alleyway I spun round with my blade out and caught her reaching for my coin-purse.

"Oi, Miss, you've gone and caught me," she said, accent confirming that she was, indeed, Breton. "Real sorry about that, but fair's fair and we all have to make a living, even when there's goodness-knows-what happening with this crazy weather, am I right? Nice ring you got there-" I put the blade up against her throat. "Now now, don't have to get violent, I know when I'm not wanted! I'll just be going, if you please."

"I don't 'please'." I glared down at her. "Ordinators!"

As I watched them drag her off, trying in vain to negotiate with them the entire way, I suddenly knew what I needed to do. Just like with the thief, I needed to take matters into my own hands. The attempts on my life, the constant deception from all sides, being used as a pawn in megalomaniacal enterprise... I realized I did not have to take this anymore. And I wouldn't. I stormed into the Temple, not caring who saw how furious I was. I had taken down one god; I had the strength to demand that my counsel be heard and taken as seriously as it had once been, ages past. No more would I allow myself to be her puppet; I am her equal.

"I would speak with you." I did not kneel or use formalities, looking her right in the eyes when I entered the High Chapel. She clearly knew the gravity of my tone for she did not smile, simply nodding to urge me on. I shook my head. "No, Almalexia. I would speak with you alone. Dismiss your guard," I said in no uncertain terms.

The Hands fidgeted and the Goddess herself looked genuinely shocked. Her expression told me that no one had spoken to her so directly since her betrayal of her husband. She was tense, probably feeling slighted but she complied, silently gesturing them out.

"This must end. Your city is withering," I kept my voice firm. "Save your beloved people and stop this. If it continues this way, your subjects will start to die."

The look in her divine eyes was cold. "And perhaps some loss is needed to restore faith."

"What if it doesn't?" I retorted, not hiding my disgust. "How many will have to die? What is 'needed' in your eyes? Would you be the ruler of a city of corpses?"

Almalexia looked me over and reached for me, brushing ash from my hair. I closed my eyes to ignore the wistful look in hers. I couldn't give her sway over my emotions. For once I needed to be Adarise more than Nerevar.

"My Nerevar," she said with a soft sigh, "You never could abide the suffering of our kin. As I am still so pleased that you have returned to me, I will grant your wish... on one condition."

When I opened my eyes she had produced a piece of a broken Dwemer blade and held it hovering above her palm. A word was spoken, "Trueflame," and it took me a moment to realize I had said it.

"You recognize your wedding gift." Almalexia beamed. "This blade and my own, Hopesfire, were given to us on the day we wed by our friend Dumac Dwarfking, before our races went to war. I am afraid this is the only piece I still possess... it was shattered during the unfortunate events at Red Mountain."

"Unfortunate events, eh?" I echoed somewhat indignantly, but she overlooked it and continued.

"Reforge Trueflame, take your rightful place at my side, and I shall end the storm as you desire. The time has come for you to reclaim your station." She took my ring-hand and placed it upon her own cheek but as soon as she released me I withdrew, skeptical. "Together we can unite Morrowind once again, free from the Imperial yoke."

Her words rang familiar... she was starting to sound a lot like the mad Voryn that had spoken to me in dreams. And yet she had me in a difficult spot, holding her own people hostage and demanding me as ransom. For a moment I could almost picture it. Almalexia and myself, ruling hand in hand, just and powerful leaders of the people once more. But that was a different life, and even the parts of myself that desired that knew it could not be again, even though she had deluded herself into thinking it could be. What had been done, was done, and we are no longer the same people though in completely different senses of the phrase. Her own power had robbed her of her sanity, possibly long before it was taken away forever by my actions.

And yet to say no, was to condemn the people of Mournhold to death. And, if I was granted a measure of power, perhaps I could attempt to keep hers in check. At least, that is the best positive I could come up with for accepting. It all seemed set up so that I would lose... but better me alone than the entirety of the city of Light and Magic. So I took her hand and brought it up to kiss it, trying not to let my voice betray my unease.

"I accept."


	8. 11 Evening Star, 3E426

**11 Evening Star, 3E426**

The most obvious first place to go in search of the rest of my blade was the Mournhold Museum of Artifacts, a place that attracted many visitors to the city and yet a place I'd not yet been. Rare finds from the entire province and beyond were sent there to be examined and displayed. The curator made a beeline for me when she saw me carrying around a piece of an elaborate Dwemer blade, immediately offering me gold to part with it. Once I had her convinced it wasn't for sale, I asked if the museum had anything like it. She shook her head, but offered to show me their Dwemer collection nonetheless.

I think I've been in too many strange places to find most of the displays remarkable. Most of the items were common household goblets and broken pieces of constructs, but there were a few weapons. None of them resembled the blade in the slightest though, and I knew Nerevar would recognize it when he saw it. The curator talked endlessly and soon I lost track of what she was trying to say, using names and references I didn't know and ranting about theory. I walked up and down the displays, looking carefully at each; and finally found myself staring at the strangest Dwemer shield I'd ever seen, unable to look away.

"Fascinating piece, isn't it?" She said. "I've classified it as a Dwemer Battle Shield. I'm not sure what to make of it, though. The spikes attached to the front of the shield seemed to be loose when I got it, so I've laid it in that case instead of hanging it so they don't fall off."

I asked her to open the case so I could have a better look, something she wouldn't do until I swore on Azura I wouldn't touch it. With the glass out of my way I was able to lean very close and see; I am not exactly a blacksmith, but I know my way around a set of armor and am proficient at repairing my own, and now I could tell the pieces weren't part of the shield at all. Straightening up, I held up my shattered Trueflame to compare the make, and it was a perfect match.

"Are you... sure there's no price you'd take for that blade of yours?" I heard the curator ask me in awe, snapping me out of my momentary trance at seeing the pieces of my blade reunited.

"Positive," I replied, "But what price will you take for this? I have need of the rest of Trueflame."

"With all respects, Lord Nerevar-"

Sighing, I urged her to dismiss the formality. "Adarise is fine, sera, thank you."

"Er, Lady Adarise, but I cannot just give away such a thing, especially now that it has been confirmed to be so much_ rarer_," here I was sure she meant 'more valuable', "than previously thought. Pilgrims from all over Morrowind will want to see it..."

I turned away from her, looking contemplatively at the shield and mulling over my options. I could have just gone to the Temple and had Almalexia's bidding suit my needs, but to that would be cowardice. No, I wouldn't wield power that was not my own, and I would not use the Temple to bully others and get my way about things like the Tribunal does. As with many things lately, I would handle it myself.

A brilliant idea came to me. I told her that I could offer her a better display, and asked her to move the shield to empty the case; just for a moment. I had promised not to touch it, so I let her lift it out, skeptical though she seemed. I made her take the same vow I'd taken, though I assured her that I wouldn't be the one dealing out consequences if she touched what I was about to show her.

I reached into the depths of my satchel and produced three items bound up in paper, placing them in the case. The curator's jaw dropped when I carefully peeled back the wrappings to reveal Wraithguard, Keening, and Sunder. As soon as all were visible I closed the display case and smiled. They could not remain in the museum permanently, but I was willing to let them display the artifacts for a few years. Once the woman found her words again I could plainly see that my offer was accepted, though she took a while to say so directly. I dislodged the pieces of the blade from the shield and let her keep that, as I've little use for it, the remains of Trueflame being all I need.

Even though there is no Heart to use the Tools on anymore, and I have been too distracted to look into a way to destroy them as planned, I still made the curator swear that she would spare no resource in keeping the artifacts safe and to never, ever, ever touch them or let anyone else do so. Bowing and stammering she swore to the Tribunal, Good Daedra, ancestors and me that she would follow my instruction. She even suggested a craftsman to reforge the blade; an Orc by the name of Yagak gro-Gluk just a building over, who had made repairs to many of the broken artifacts the museum received to put them in displayable condition.

He grunted appreciatively when I handed him the pieces across the table at the Craftsman's Hall. "Huh. Never seen anything like it."

"Does that mean you can't fix it?" I inquired, and he slammed a fist on the table, clearly offended. My ale nearly fell over, not that I would have missed it; Orcs have horrendous taste in drinks.

"Don't underestimate me, elf. I can make anything, so I can work with this." To my slight dismay, he then began to wrap up the pieces of Trueflame in a soot-covered cloth. "Make the best blade you've ever seen...not that I figure you'd know a daikatana from a butter knife."

I merely chuckled, and Yagak took up his ale, finishing it off in one long chug. "Come back in two days' time," he said, heading back to his forge, "and I'll have your blade. Now leave me alone."


	9. 12-13 Evening Star, 3E426

**12 Evening Star, 3E426**

I would have just stayed at the Winged Guar but with all the people sheltering from the storm it has become an intolerably loud place, impossible to find rest. So grudgingly I went back to the Temple and asked them if they had a place for me to sleep in the infirmary. Oh, that just wouldn't do, they told me. Apparently Almalexia has told her priests of her plans for me. They bade me wait in the reception area while they 'arranged something', darting to and fro, topping off my cup of tea every time it got to half-empty, in between moving furniture. Trying to tell them a roll on the floor was good enough for me was as useless as talking to a kagouti.

Eventually I was led to a sight that would have made me laugh if I didn't find it so sad and unsettling. They'd shoved almost all the basement storage into the back area and placed screened dividers between it and a small living area. A common bed set with gaudy dressings was down there too, as was a small table and a pair of chairs. The torches that kept it lit, while nice, were clearly cobbled together from different places. A few tapestries hung on the walls, images of the Tribunes and Saint Nerevar, difficult for me to look at right now.

I washed away the ash clinging to my armor and body and tried to get comfortable in a silken violet robe that was laid out for me. Living like this, while I can see the obvious merit and why some like it, is not exactly my calling. A woman even came down after I bathed and offered to style my hair... of all the ridiculous things! I declined politely, however, trying my hardest not to make fun of it.

I expect if Almalexia had chambers in the Temple, I would have been put up there. But the Goddess does not stray from her High Chapel, the power of her divinity granting her freedom from the mortal needs of sleep, food and bathing. At times throughout the day I thought to go see her. But then, I'd remember the coldness in her eyes, how harsh her voice was when she told me that loss might be needed to restore faith. I suppose I'll have plenty of time to talk to her in the coming years; once I reclaim Trueflame, my new life will begin, and all these changes I will have to adapt to.

As Almalexia's consort, I expect I will be technically free to do as I wish; however it strangely does not feel like freedom. I recall a term I heard in the Imperial prisons while having a discussion about the Emperor's sons. Most thought they would very much like to be one of them and have all the wealth and influence that came with it, but one Redguard man disagreed. He'd been a noble once, ultimately jailed for murder, rumored to be former Dark Brotherhood assassin who was caught on a job. He spoke of the 'gilded cage', a prison of the soul he called it, that all persons in such high regard were bound to. Rather than trapped by bars, they had little freedom of thought or purpose, always having to live up to what was expected of them, fearing for their lives for just being who they were. Deluded as I was at that point, my only knowledge of the world came from books I was occasionally brought, and I couldn't understand his meaning. Until now.

* * *

**13 Evening Star, 3E426**

I waited until the evening to head to the Craftsmen's Hall, remaining in the Temple most of the afternoon, wandering the halls to commit them to memory and trying my best to adjust. The winds of the ashstorm continued to howl outside and I did my best to ignore it. I went to see Almalexia to reaffirm her end of the bargain and wound up sitting with her for hours while she told me idyllic tales of the First Era. I took her stories with a grain of salt; even though I cannot directly remember I know that things were not as perfect as she made them sound. On and on she went about the day we had wed, the day the treaty with the Dwemer was established, jokes Vivec had told, amazing inventions Sotha Sil had made.

It was actually a relief to leave after that, all the stories and familiarity overloading my senses. I caught myself in a mirror out of the corner of my eye as I walked out, and swear that for a moment that reflection was not Adarise. My head hurt and ears rang lightly as I pushed through the storm covered in a shawl. Moon-and-Star felt heavy on my hand. I can't help but wonder if that will get worse or better with time... or perhaps one day I will cease entirely to be Adarise. And yet... what really is the difference between Adarise and Nerevar, besides the physical form? I can't say I know anymore. The line has blurred to the point of invisibility.

When I finally arrived at the Hall, Yagak gro-Gluk seemed to have had the blade ready for some time but he looked rather perplexed. Walking up beside him I soon was too. The pieces had come together just fine; it was exquisite, the spikes I'd taken from the shield forming the intimidating hilt decor and the blade itself curved, deadly, shining. And yet, it was said to be a blade enchanted with Dwemer fire. This sword did not so much as glow. I looked at the Orc quizzically.

"Before you ask, I don't know why it doesn't burn." He shrugged. "I'm a smith, not an enchanter."

Nonetheless I thanked him for his efforts and paid him well over what I had originally given as a price. But then, as I took up Trueflame to leave, I felt a brief splitting pain in my head. As I shook it off, the elaborate grooves leading down the metal's curve lit up orange-red and the sword burst into magical flame, me almost dropping it in surprise. Yagak chuckled. "Well. Guess it knows ya."

"I suppose it does," I smiled, giving it a twirl. I had thought I'd need to get used to wielding a sword of a completely different shape and balance than my usual longsword, but never had a weapon felt so right in my hand. The enchantment itself was completely harmless to me, not so much as stinging when I held my fingers in the flames. From there it was back to Almalexia to show her I had met my end of our deal, and make her keep hers. The sooner the storm ended, the better.

She held Hopesfire when she greeted me, her blade sleeker and smaller than my own, alive with enchanted lightning. I could hear the howling wind of the storm begin to die down when I stood before her in the Chapel, and she took me gently and kissed my forehead.

"Welcome home, Nerevar."


	10. 27 Evening Star, 3E426

**27 Evening Star, 3E426**

Almalexia and I had another meeting with the Imperial Ambassadors yesterday regarding the Temple's recent changes in religious policy. They seem pleased that the discrimination has ended, and I attempted to make moves to relinquish some of the Temple's authority to the Imperial City. But Almalexia stood firm, never angry, but always gently conflicting with my words, clinging to every scrap of power she can still grasp and holding to my arm in a show of unity.

I was beginning to be enlightened to the fact that she was not taking her loss of divinity very well. She spends countless hours with me standing at her side, saying nothing at all and staring into space. For the first time I actually saw her leave the High Chapel and abandon her Guard to come and sit in my chambers as had dinner, and she stayed with me until the sun rose, lying with me as I slept.

If I so much as mention that I want something around here, it is brought to me. I had been exaggerating when I came in from the Temple plaza, practicing with Trueflame, and said that I could eat a dozen kwama eggs. And yet moments later, that is exactly what one of the lower-ranking priests shuffled in with. So difficult it was not to laugh. I don't even spend that much time in armor anymore, usually in my Hortator robes with a sword-belt and leaving my shield in my chambers. I've not so much as left the city.

But there is always something that needs done. Disturbances on the border to Black Marsh, negotiations with the Imperials, an influx of bandits from Skyrim, thinly-veiled mudslinging between the Temple and King Helseth's drones. It is all so horribly tiresome, and yet, I must take part, to balance out the extremism of Almalexia's wishes. I cannot tell what she is thinking anymore.

As the time went on, the hours we spent together grew less and less. Day or night she rarely came to my chambers and soon, stopped entirely. A few whole days passed without any contact between us whatsoever outside of official business, and I found myself appreciative of the solitude. The lack of space had been draining, but even with this relief, I could still see the bars of my gilded cage.

It was yesterday that the city came under attack again. Another wave of creatures spilled out from beneath the statue, and now there were no constructs standing between them and Mournhold. Citizens had not been common in the Plaza Brindisi Dorom since the first incident so there were fewer civilian casualties, but it took a bad toll on both the Ordinators and Royal Guard. I was still assisting with recovery when I was summoned to the Temple to speak with Almalexia. She had news.

"Sotha Sil." She spoke his name with a sorrowful sigh. "As I feared. It was his creations, these Fabricants, that attacked my city. This once great man is now a danger to Mournhold and to all of Morrowind. He must be stopped, Nerevar."

My head was low for a few moments. Another old friend, gone mad. My heart felt heavy. "I hope it is still possible to reason with him."

"If he cannot be, you must end his life," Almalexia replied. "Though the idea saddens me, it is best for Morrowind... and it is best for him, as well. You have the power to do this."

"I question if I have the will," I said honestly, "Even though we haven't been reunited yet in this life, he is a dear companion to me."

"I cannot count the times I have fought by the Magician's side. It was he who stood with me the day I fought in Mournhold and banished Mehrunes Dagon to the depths of Oblivion." She closed her eyes in bittersweet reminiscence. "I have suspected for some time that the Lord Sotha Sil had entered Sheogorath's realm. His visits have been more and more infrequent, and punctuated by violent fits of anger. He began to speak of the fall of the Tribunal. He is no longer the man he once was."

Taking a deep breath, I spoke with determination. "Let me meet with him alone."

"If that is what you wish, I can teleport you to his Clockwork City. But Nerevar, please," Her smooth hand graced my cheek and I raised my own to hold it there a moment. "Be careful. His lair is as puzzling as the mind of the Sorcerer himself. Ever-moving, ever-changing, its levers and gears responding to its master's will alone."

I nodded, bringing her hand to my lips to kiss it. "Don't worry for me. Send me to Sotha Sil."

In the blink of an eye my surroundings changed. I was knee-deep in water, standing in a flooded metal chamber. Mosses draped over some of the piping. The levers and gears looked rusted over. I had to muster all my strength to pull the mechanism that opened the door in front of me, and I found myself in a larger chamber that began to slope upward, which I followed.

"Sotha?" I called out, hearing nothing in reply but the constant scraping of working machines. I proceeded on, quite grateful again for Azura's blessing to my sight, for it was pitch-dark in places. The air smelt stagnant, like a ruin.

The Clockwork City was a hazardous maze of massive gears and chambers containing moving mechanisms of ridiculous proportion, many obvious traps such as swinging blades hanging about to ward off the foolhardy adventurer. I made my way out of the flooded areas and into hallways that didn't show near as many signs of rust and neglect. Sparks streamed out of parts of the ceiling like small fiery waterfalls.

I tried to shout for him again. "Sotha Sil? It's me, Nerevar... I just want to talk." Everything I knew of the Tribunal's divinity suggested he should already know I was here and yet there was no answer, and the hideous traps remained activated. It slowed my progress, made every step tedious. It seemed as if he had become mad enough to wish death on anyone who came near him or his experiments.

Finally I came to a door that was a bit larger than the rest, dusty banners of the Tribunal hanging on the walls just outside it. I knocked at first, but there was no answer but the clanging background noise. Perhaps he couldn't hear, I reasoned, calling out to him one last time in vain. Shaking my head in resignation I found the lever and pulled it, standing back and out of the way as it came open.

It was pitch dark at first, but I proceeded in anyway, able to see naught but a strange silhouette by the light of Trueflame in my hand. But as the door moved back into place behind me, a series of Dwemer tubes lit up, all around the edges of the circular chamber I was in. And right in front of me was Sotha Sil, unmistakably long dead.

My heart pounded in horror and I put my hand to my chest to calm it, trying to control my breathing. What was left of my old friend was hung up by his own machines, the cables dangling the remains a few feet above the dry, blood-caked ground. One glazed eye, still open, was visible from the damage to his mask, staring into oblivion.

Someone had gotten here before me. My heart sank to my stomach and I felt bitterly cold, turning away, and then a voice like ice spoke.

"Sotha Sil... he always thought himself our better, shunning us, locking himself in this hole. He spoke not a word as he died. Not a whisper. Even in death, he mocked me with his silence."

Almalexia.

"But I think you will scream, mortal."

There she stood, as if from nowhere, wearing her tusked war-mask whose eyes glowed with the same golden fire as her own, Hopesfire in her tense hand.

"This Clockwork City was to be your death." Never had I heard the goddess so angry, not even when I had told her of the cult. "You were to be my greatest martyr! The heroic Lord Nerevar, sacrificing all to protect Morrowind from the mad Sotha Sil." Her hands shook in anger. "But you live! You live!"

I cannot say I was surprised apart from the moment of her initial appearance. No, it was mostly... I suppose the word is disappointment. I had hoped she would merely be content just to have me again, but the loss of her power had proved to be the final straw. I wanted nothing more than for the transition into this new age to be made peacefully, but I should have known that the Nerevarine's burden does not end with prophecy. The demons of Nerevar's life are too many.

Thus Trueflame and Hopesfire clashed. "I will tell the tale myself when this is done," Almalexia growled at me, pressing against my defense with divine strength. "I will tell my people how with your dying breath you proclaimed your love for me, the one true goddess!"

I dealt her a firm kick to the stomach and she reeled back a step. "Just how much longer can you protect them?" I inquired, furious. All of it, from the very beginning, had been her doing. The ashstorms, the Fabricant attacks, and now the murder of our cherished friend... I suspected that the 'bad information' that the King got had the same source. "Your powers are waning, Almalexia. You are mortal again, the Heart is no more. They are going to lose faith, and it is for their own good."

With a shriek of anger she blasted me back by means of some sort of concussive magic. I landed on my back and she threw the crackling Hopesfire at me; I barely rolled out of the way before it sunk rather deep into the metallic floor. With a wave of her hand she willed it back to herself. "You know nothing, Nerevar. You are powerless."

"Refusing to wield the same profane powers you gave your soul to, Almalexia, does not mean I am powerless." I stood in a defensive stance, staying rigid despite the ache building in my chest. My very soul felt pierced and I dreaded what I was starting to realize I'd have to do.

"None may stand in my way. Not you, and certainly not Vivec." She brandished her weapon at me and I braced myself. "He is a poet, a fool. I will deal with him when I have finished with you."

Fire and lightning met again and again as Almalexia and I exchanged blows. She wore no shield but made up for it by dodging with uncanny speed and our swordplay seemed on equal footing. One of her powerful downward strikes got Hopesfire lodged in my shield and I tried to angle it away so that she couldn't reclaim it. Irritated she unbalanced me by swiping at my face with a magically-burning palm, took her sword back, and then plunged it right beneath the pauldron of my armor.

I bit my tongue so as not to give her the satisfaction of hearing me scream. The sharp blade itself and the small hook on its edge would have been bad enough but the lightning made it so much worse, setting the nerves in my whole body alight with pain. My shield-arm was now handicapped, any significant motion quite agonizing. I was breaking a sweat from the shock but I tried my best to focus through. I let my suffering become anger and then, determination, and swung at her neck as she held her blade in my flesh.

The blade was jerked out when she leapt back, landing gracefully in an almost dance-like stance and holding the bloodied Hopesfire out before her in challenge. For a moment, it seemed, she remembered her honor and gave me a minute to catch my breath and recover. That, or she just wished to drag this out as long as she could. I had no clues as to what was going on behind that war-mask, but something about her demeanor told me she wasn't smiling.

I had done everything she asked and yet it had all come to this. At least, said a thought in the back of my mind, if I won this fight I would again be free. A bitter comfort in the midst of a foolish battle.

Tired of waiting, Almalexia came at me again with a sideways strike, aiming for my shield more than me. An attempt to wear me down, no mistaking it once she did so again. And unfortunately it was starting to work. I turned my other side towards her and parried with Trueflame, forcing her to dodge a thrust immediately after. She spun and slashed at me with the momentum from that and I blocked it with my blade, still wanting to use my shield-arm as little as possible. I glared into the eyes of the mask as she bore down on me with all her strength but then saw her hand coming up, preparing a spell. There was nowhere to dodge.

With no other choice I pushed through the agony and brought up the shield to strike her in the face, as hard as I could. She cried out, staggering backwards. I saw a few drops of blood fall from the bottom of it and land on tattooed golden skin. Almalexia didn't move for several moments; I suspect she might have even forgotten the feeling of pain, and that just made the entire ordeal that much more unpleasant.

Soon she was on the offensive again, even angrier now; but a lot of her finesse was replaced with raw temper. The amount of power she had must have felt puny compared to what she wielded before. And she had grown so accustomed to that strength that wasn't her own, that she barely knew what to do without it. I continued to parry and block her, rarely swinging back, pitying her more and more the longer we fought, and Almalexia began to tire.

She cast the same spell she'd used to knock me back to aim at the ceiling of the mechanical dome just above my head. The room shook and while I was fighting to keep balance, gears and pipes began crashing down. I held my shield up and backed away from my opponent, my eyes still on her should she try to take advantage of the distraction, wincing when a particularly heavy piece crashed into it. Better that than my skull, however, and though my wound hurt horribly I remained silent. Dust showered down upon us, so much in fact that neither Almalexia or I could see our enemy.

A fireball came flying through the dust and I barely got my shield in front of me in time. A few more came, but they all missed, her sight obscured and I heard her growling. I looked down and saw a sturdy brass pipe by my feet, and had an idea. I scooped it up and waited for another fireball to come flying into the debris cloud, and hurled the pipe right at the source.

I heard a clang and a shriek; I had made my mark. Preparing my blade I ran toward the source to see the moment that Almalexia's war-mask split right down the middle and fell off her bloody face, and it was because of this I was able to see the horror in her eyes when Trueflame ran her through.

Rather than let her fall I took her by the shoulders and reclaimed my sword, then gently lowered her to the ground while she gasped for air, body still in shock. Her eyes were delirious, wide, but she looked upon me and smiled. "You always... won... our sparring matches."

"Except for the last one." I said with a chuckle. The words left my lips but I'm certain it was Nerevar that spoke them; only he would recall that.

A choked, painful-sounding laugh in return, tears in her eyes, a bit of blood streaming from her lips. Then she looked suddenly so afraid, eyes darting here and there in search. "It's dark," Almalexia nearly whispered, though her eyes were open. "Nerevar, are... a-are you there?"

"Yes, I am, Almalexia." I laid my hand on her bloodied cheek to soothe her and she reached out for me. I leaned down and guided her hand to my own face, letting her caress me weakly... and then she went still, her golden hand falling lifeless to the floor. The fire in her divine eyes went out, and with a heavy sigh, I closed them forever.

Something tickled my cheek and I reached up to find a single droplet had made its way out, and I felt certain it did not come from Adarise. I sat there in that room full of death, feeling so cold within, and a hand laid on my shoulder. I turned to see Azura standing there, looking down at me with a sympathetic smile.

"You have done well, Nerevar," came her ethereal, comforting voice. "The death of Almalexia is a boon for all of Morrowind, though it may take time for this to be understood. She would have betrayed the Dunmer as surely as she betrayed all those she loved. This was her curse, and this was her undoing." I nodded in agreement, not quite ready for words yet, wiping the tear off my face and looking over at the dangling remains of my old friend the Sorcerer.

"Weep not for Sotha Sil," Azura reassured me, helping me up and laying her healing hands on my wound. "He shed his mortality long ago, and I am certain his death was no small relief to him. These gods lived with the burden of a power no mortal was meant to possess."

"One still lives," I spoke, my voice feeling hollow.

"Yes, Vivec still lives... but I believe his time grows short. But go now Nerevar, free once more. Never doubt to yourself that you have done what was right and necessary. Go with my blessing."

I blinked and suddenly I was no longer in the Clockwork City and all the blood was gone off my hands. Instead I stood under pure moonlight in the Temple Plaza. Trueflame was in one hand, Hopesfire was in the other, and there was a surprising emptiness in my heart.


	11. Departure

"It is all very sad," said Vivec. I had just related my entire tale of Mournhold to him as he sat beside me, for once foregoing his levitation to sit on the floor with me. "I thought she might harm me. Almalexia always took her divinity quite seriously, and she had a tendency to brood. But death comes to all mortals. In time, death will come to me as well."

I stared down into the glass of wine I hadn't so much as sipped, swirling it idly. "Even after all that's happened, even after I have become comfortable with my true identity, I fear that I may not know how to best proceed from here," I admitted. "Matters of politics and power bewilder me."

"That is good." I looked at Vivec, confused, but he explained his meaning. "It is better to have someone who is outside those machinations, whose heart lies with their people and not the retaining of their station. Nerevar's actions always followed what he thought was best for his kin and not himself."

Staring at the ceiling in contemplation, I let silence reign for a bit before I spoke. "There is a lot to be done. Temple policies need to be changed. I dare say we could use fewer Ordinators and more priests and healers, to match the changing of the Temple from a political body into one that serves and heals the people. I would see the Tribunal revered still, but no longer worshipped... a transition that needs to be very carefully made to avoid upsetting people."

My old friend chuckled, "See, you understand this better than you think you do."

Yet I was not amused, sighing to myself. "Vivec, can I trust you to help them make these changes? I do not feel I am suited for it."

He tilted his two-toned head. "What, you aren't here to kill me?"

I wanted to be offended, but there was no denying that Vivec could read me like a book. I just shook my head, looking away. "You know me too well. I had thought about it much after I left Mournhold, and I still feel a slight bitterness over the past, regardless of how distant those events are now." My gaze turned back to him, fiery eyes looking into my own in his typical neutral analysis.

"Of all my life's actions, I most regret that one."

"But I will not kill you," I said, raising my glass to take a drink. "Not unless you give me no choice. Ever since the Clockwork City I have felt such a horrible emptiness inside me. Two of the people that were most dear to me in my past life, gone, the dearest dead by my forced hand. That makes a total of three; Voryn was also a good friend. I could not bear the weight of another. It is because I think the people still need you, too. Not as a god, but as a guide... they will listen better if the decrees of change come from you."

"I love the people of Morrowind," Vivec mused after some time, seeming content with my answers and intertwining his fingers. "I feel the most sympathy with House Redoran; they are Dunmer driven by creeds and deeds, like I am. House Indoril is closer to the compassion and sympathy of Almalexia, a comfortable and secure serenity. House Telvanni matches the disposition of Sotha Sil - iconoclastic, profane, unconventional. House Hlaalu represents the future of the Dunmer, integrated into the sophisticated mainstream of the traditionless, raceless, godless culture of the Empire. House Dres represents the past of pre-Tribunal Great House culture, a persistent tradition of Daedra-and-ancestor-worshipping civilized Dunmer clans. And I even love the Ashlanders for their preservation of the most ancient barbarian tribal traditions of the Dunmer who first settled Resdayn."

I felt some measure of contentment at his words and the cheerful way he spoke them, and I smiled. "Then my people are in good hands."

"It is good, honest work. And I feel there is redemption in it."

We were quiet for a bit, and I finished my glass of wine.

"How long will you be gone?" He inquired at length, and I just laughed. I'd made no indicator of my plans to him, but there was no hiding anything from my old friend.

"I cannot say, but I do not plan on it being long." I fidgeted idly with my empty wineglass, and Vivec levitated the bottle toward me in a hinting fashion, so I held it still for it to be refilled. "I cannot just abandon my people, and of course I never will, but I believe I need some time to come to terms."

Vivec nodded in understanding. "I would urge you return swiftly, when you are ready. In times of change, the Dunmer will need Nerevar's guidance."

We spoke for hours after that of both the past and future, Vivec finally showing the jovial, pleasant side of himself that dominated his personality when I had known him in the First Era. I left when the sun rose, my sides sore from laughter for what I think may have been the first time.

The only other person I've told the truth to so far was King Helseth and the Queen Mother Barenziah, having met with them in private the morning after the Clockwork City. Even the self-centered, half-breed Helseth recognizes the importance of making a careful transition of power away from the Temple. They, like me, wish to see it become a place of peace and healing, not of politics. I still would not turn my back on him, and yet, I think the King, with his mother's guidance, will serve his people well.

I have heard of a land beyond the sunrise, a continent beyond the eastern sea full of mystery and wonder. So thus I have gathered up my funds to discretely purchase a small ship and crew and I shall see this land for myself, this 'Akavir'.

Caius Cosades was still in Cyrodiil from all I could tell, though I sent off a sealed letter explaining my intentions and promising to return. Mehra Milo has become instrumental in healing the rift between the Temple and the returning Dissidents, so I could not ask her away from her duties. Everyone else had their duties to their guilds, or Houses, or tribes... all except one, who I immediately went to see and give my offer.

I had hoped a free spirit like Nels Llendo would have jumped on the chance to come with me on an expedition into the unknown, and was a bit surprised when he gave me a bittersweet smirk and shook his head. Even though we had been very close, he had never told me that he had two sisters here on the island who he couldn't bear to leave. Foolishly I tried to say they could come along too, if that is what would get him to accompany me. He chuckled. They had their own lives and families, he said, and couldn't abide sea travel anyway. So with a final kiss and sad smiles we parted ways, and I swore to him that I would return in one or two short years.

So tonight I am back in the Urshilaku camp, the place where I started to realize who I really was, writing my final entry. Perhaps there will be future tomes; perhaps not, but I'm leaving this one here with the other two, ensuring that it will not be lost at sea or in Akavir.

To any who read this, know that I did only what I felt was necessary. Even with Azura's words, I am not sure it was the right path to have taken. I will spend some time on the open sea and perhaps the solitude and distance will give me a chance to come to peace with myself. Nerevar's burden rests heavily on my shoulders, but I will take up that weighty mantle, willingly, when I set foot on the soil of Morrowind once again.

This I swear, as both Adarise Salvel _and_ Nerevar Indoril.

* * *

_**THE**** END.**_

_"Thank you to anyone who read this. I am very proud of the result; so much so that I've already got another Elder Scrolls saga in the works. Keep an eye out for it!_

_I'd like to make a personal shout-out to my most loyal reviewers: Duroxas (personal reviews made through Skype) and CheySkywalker. I put hours of heartfelt work into my writing, and it is a core of my being. Very often, I lose hope, and wonder if anyone is so much as bothering to read. I see works that are full of spelling errors and borderline disrespectful lore-breaks, and some of these seem to get all the attention. But you two not only taking the time to read and follow this work but give me feedback that lights up my entire day was instrumental in driving me to complete this. I don't think I would have without your encouragement, and that makes you two just as responsible for this creation as I am._

_So thank you, for taking the time out of your lives to give a writer the sense of happiness we only get when someone reads and enjoys our work."_

_-Svetlaena Quel'Ivan_


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